


Emerald eyes in golden sun

by Prawnperson



Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: Artistic license with historical clothing, Ballroom Dancing, Based mainly off books 3 and 5, Changing POV, Chivalry, Confessions, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Developing Relationships, Dialogue Heavy, Exploration, F/M, First Loves, Fix-It of Sorts, Flower Language, Friends to Lovers, I wrote this for myself to be honest, Let me just clarify Green is not a simp, Obliviousness, Pining, Rarepair, Realization, Romantic Tension, Sea Monsters, Self-Indulgent, This Is STUPID, Unrequited Love, Wet Shirt, Which is very obvious from the countless tropes and cliches present, but he is a simpleton, he is enormously stupid and easily embarrassed, hopefully not a nice guy cliche because he’s sort of a himbo, slightly suggestive themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: He’s in love with her.He can’t be entirely certain why her, why exactly how, but he is. He is, and it’s killing him. Everything about her is intoxicating to him, distracting, like she’s a vortex he’s trapped in that he never wants to escape.And yet, he’s too scared to tell her so.
Relationships: Jennifer/The pirate in green
Comments: 12
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic about this ship and, to my knowledge, the first piece of content for it! It will also probably be the only one. With that said, I still really wanted to write something to further explore their relationship, especially something a little bit flouncy and overly dramatic to reflect the idiocy of the romances of the Victorian era. Hopefully, if you like that type of fluff you’ll enjoy this at least a little bit!

He’s in love with her.

He can’t be entirely certain why her, why exactly how, but he is. He is, and it’s killing him. Everything about her is intoxicating to him, distracting, like she’s a vortex he’s trapped in that he never wants to escape.

And yet, he’s too scared to tell her so.

The pirate in green is interrupted from his thoughts whenever there’s a small knock on the door, light and even and very distinctly Jennifer. Sure enough, whenever he makes a squeaky noise that signals it’s safe to enter, she saunters in, elegant and graceful and so, so pretty.

“You do know that dinner’s ready, right?” She says. There’s that pleasant, resting smile on her face, her voice like siren song to him as he sits on his hammock with nothing to do. He makes no attempts to pretend he was doing anything productive, because she would just know. She seems to know everything he does, seems to be able to read him like a particularly interesting book.

She’s about to leave again whenever she notices that he is in fact just sitting there, staring at nothing, seemingly deciding that she needs to place herself right beside him to ask about it. Her shirt sleeves are rolled up, allowing the bare skin of her forearm to press against his. The simple contact leaves his brain feeling embarrassingly fuzzy, unable to focus on anything other than how warm she is.

“Is there something wrong?”

The looks she’s giving him is one of genuine concern, deep green eyes locked into him. He finds another reason for why green is his favourite colour before remembering that she’s just asked him something, beginning to flounder for a convincing excuse and trying desperately not to blush whenever she slightly sticks out her lower lip into a pout. He finds himself rambling some excuse about a headache, and before he knows it, she’s gone.

He flops backwards into the hammock, narrowly avoiding bonking his head on the wall, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. If he were more poetically minded, he would think that the hunger in his stomach was nothing compared to the hunger in his heart. He isn’t, though, so all he thinks is that he really should go up for dinner, regardless of how much he wants to stay below decks and wallow in his turmoil.

So, he does, pushing down the memories of her soft skin against his and the sight of her in peach velvet.

———

He knows that, deep down, he will always be a second choice. Wether it be in piracy, friendship or romance, he will never be the person someone first thinks of, unless they happen to be thinking up a list of the most unremarkable men to ever sail the seven seas, which seems highly unlikely. 

He knows that in comparison to everyone else Jennifer has ever received affection from and shown affection to, he’s wholly and truly pitiful. He knows that placing him against the likes of the Hons. pirates who bought her drinks or even the first mate would be like comparing fine wine to rum.

He doesn’t know why it still shatters his heart to see her lying propped up below the romantic, back pressed against cold stone, face painted with that lazy little grin she only gets whenever she’s truly contented. It makes him feel angry, for some reason. The kind of fists-clenched anger that he rarely ever feels. Not at Jennifer, no, never at Jennifer. He would have no right to be, not even if they were something. No, at Byron, he supposes. Maybe because he seemed to view her as nothing more than another notch on the bedpost whenever she was infinitely more than that and definitely infinitely more than he deserved, than anyone deserved.

He knows why she talks to him, but he doesn’t really understand it. Right now is one of those times.

“Was’ a matter?”

He asks, because he may be the tiniest touch drunk on the rum from the bottle he’s been clinging to for the past hour, and words are very hard to piece together fully right now. She’s wearing something different from the day before, and the pirate in green has no idea where she gets all these different outfits from, but he really doesn’t care. She looks good in anything. He knows she does. Jennifer pulls a face that’s very difficult to read.

Her deliberation would be obvious to anyone sober, before she rests her chin in her hands and huffs. “I’m a little dissatisfied, honestly.” She finally admits. The pirate in green tilts his head in what he hopes is an inviting way, shimmying a little closer to her, perched precariously on the railing of the boat.

“How d’you mean?”

“I suppose...don’t our adventures seem to be falling into a little bit of a rut to you?”

The fact that she said ‘our adventures’ shouldn’t make his heart stutter as it does, because they are part of the same crew, after all, but it still leaps in his chest to the point he has to grip at the handrail to stop himself falling off into the sea.

“I mean...they’re always like that, even ‘fore you came ‘ere.”

“How do you get out of these ruts?”

He shrugs his shoulders and takes another swig of the little bottle in his hands.

“Dunno. Sometimes some’ne new joins and we have to work out if they ‘ave any allergies. That’s always fun.”

She laughs at that, sweet and pretty. His expression softens before he can stop it. “That’s ridiculous.” She giggles, turning to look at him. 

“There are worse jobs you could ‘ave.”

“Like what?”

He finally has the good sense to clamber off the railing. The bottle is placed on top of a crate nearby to leave both his hands free as he begins to count off the numerous different career choices he can think of right now. 

“You could be one of them women who tests rubber products. You could...be a murder victim, again, I guess. You could...be a fish wife.”

“None of those are jobs.” She shakes her head but she still grins, brushing windswept curls away from her face. He can see the rosey colour on the apples of her cheeks despite the setting sun. “Thank you for drawing me from my melancholy.” She whispers. Her voice changes to the calm and proper tone from whenever he first met her. 

She leaves him with a kiss on the cheek and a fleeting touch to the shoulder.

———

“It’s lovely here.”

She’s running her hands along the intricate golden sconces on the walls of the church. No matter how hard he tries, the pirate in green simply cannot take his eyes off her. The sun is shining through the stained glass of the giant window behind the altar, casting beautiful shapes onto her body, red and purple and yellow and green all bouncing off the glistening silver silk of her dress. He knows that the rest of the crew has realised his feelings for Jennifer now, or at the very least the captain has, because he’s been sent out with her together a suspicious amount recently. 

She looks up at him, suddenly dragging him down by the collar into the footwell of one of the pews.

“Jennifer-“

“Shhh! I can hear someone!”

He stills, and sure enough, whenever he listens, he can hear the clacking of heels on the tiled floors outside the body of the church. His very cautiously draws her down towards him, close against his chest until her front is pressed against his. He can feel her heartbeat hammering next to his own, can smell the sweet scent of her floral perfume and diary paper. Despite the prominent danger lurking outside, it’s the only thing he can focus on. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, Jennifer held to his chest in a position he can pretend is romantic if he tries hard enough. As the footsteps grow father away, she sucks in a deep breath before letting it out in a relieved sigh.

“We can get up now.” She assures him, pushing herself off of him with a gentle hand to his chest. He finds himself missing her touch just as much as he thought he would.

———


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their interaction in the third book fuels me

She likes him.

The pirate in green is a surprisingly sweet character. Despite his rather daunting height and his significant deal of muscle, there’s a sweet kind of innocence about him that never fails to shine through. That, and the fact that he can’t see an inch in front of his face without glasses, and, well, she does like a boy in glasses.

Yet, ever since they left the shores of Nantucket a few months ago, something about him had changed. Around her, he sometimes becomes almost nervous in demeanour. Slightly clammy, very fidgety and unbelievably chatty, to the point where it very nearly got them kidnapped in the waxworks museum. She isn’t entirely certain why he gets like this.

Well, if she isn’t sure, the rest of the ship seems to be.

The entire crew seems to go silent whenever she occupies the same room as the pirate in green, almost as if they’re expecting something, and it infuriates her not to know. No matter who she asks, no one will tell her, and it’s starting to drive her up the wall. 

———

“Why can’t pirates learn the alphabet?”

She can practically hear the grin in his voice without even having to turn to face him. She stays seated, rolling up some of the new bandages newly bought for the sparsely stocked first aid cabinet. “Why can’t they?” She asks, because she’s learned that the fastest way to get him to stop is to play along.

“Because they spend years at ‘C’!”

Despite herself, she snorts, resting her forehead in her palm and slowly shaking her head.

“Sweet heavens...”

“What lies at the bottom of the ocean and twitches?”

She can’t believe she’s going to entertain anymore of this nonsense. She pushes her chair back to she can twist around to watch him. He’s taken up his usual pose of standup comedian, thumbs slung carelessly into his belt loops, grinning manically.

“I don’t know, a crab addicted to heroin?”

“A nervous wreck!”

One of the rolls of bandages sails through the air and hits him in the chest.

———

“Your hair smells nice.”

It comes out as a rather loud statement, making her turn her head up from her plate and look towards the pirate in green, twitching at the seat opposite to her. The entire crew is gazing at them with a general mix of wide eyes, confusion and exasperation. 

“Pardon me?”

“You-your hair...it smells nice...I meant to tell you this morning.”

Jennifer can feel the warm blush creep across her face, across the bridge of her nose where her spectacles are perched. The compliment is much too clumsy to be anything but sincere. The pirate can’t keep his eyes on her, suddenly very interested in the tops of his socks.

“Thank you. I, uhm, I took a bath last night. With, uh, with apple soap.

“Ah.”

From the pirate with a scarf’s direction, there’s a disgruntled mumble.

———

This is fine, Jennifer tells herself. She’s only watching because she has nothing else to do, that’s all. There’s no other reason, not one, and there won’t ever be.

The pirate in green is hoisting at a rope. She doesn’t know what it’s connected to, and she does care, either. All she’s focused on is the way he moves, the way his arms look with his sleeves rolled up, the fact that his thick, dark curls have become slightly frizzier, one lock above curling up against his forehead. The tip of his tongue is held between his teeth in concentration. For some odd reason, the whole sight makes the pit of her stomach feel incredibly hot.

She glances back out towards the skyline with a huff. This is absolutely ridiculous. She’s an adult woman, not some frisky teenager or filthy guttersnipe, and certainly not the kind of pathetic little woman to get a crush on the first feckless young man that makes her laugh and has nice hair. She refuses to play into the offensive and misogynistic stereotype that she’s naturally desperate for a stronger partner to protect her.

Pathetic.

———

The rocking of the ship usually soothes her to sleep, on most nights. It seems tonight is not like most nights.

Despite her constant internal protests, her mind keeps wandering back to the incident at the wax museum. It made her feel nothing at the time, and should therefore not make her feel anything now. She shouldn’t feel a flutter in her stomach whenever she thinks about his hands curling around the hem of her skirt just as instructed, just enough to reveal her knees and no more. Her face shouldn’t heat up whenever she remembers the feeling of his knee pressing into the front of her thigh, unbelievably gentle. Most of all, she should not feel her pulse speed up whenever she remembers his lips brushing against her ear, whispering lowly to her, yet not all that quiet.

Maybe she was too nervous to notice it at the time, but something about it sparks something in her.

He didn’t even try to try anything. She can distinctly remember the flush creeping across his face as he averted his eyes from her legs, body stock still and only pressed against her as much as he absolutely had to be. 

He had said she was brave, too.

Really brave.

Jennifer rolls into her side in the hammock and suppresses a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer is somehow both very aware of all the emotional goings on aboard the ship and completely unaware of them. We stan an oblivious queen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA: The chapter with a lot of sexual/romantic tension in it because these two are stupid and they live in a time of subtext and nonsense.

The waves crash, water sloughing onto the deck, angry, violent winds tearing through the sky. They’re in the very late stages of a fight with a sea monster. It’s a great beast, the stuff of nightmares or trashy thriller novels made for women trapped in loveless marriages. It’s all rubbery skin, curling, tonne weight tentacles and spines as sharp as any cutlass. 

One of those very tentacles slams against the hull of the boat, rocking it to and fro, sending a few of the pirates overboard. There’s another bang from the canons, and the creature gives a pitiful shriek. 

The pirate in green watches as Jennifer shoves a barrel of gunpowder over the side. It is lit moments after and goes off with a deafening bang. The pirate in green grabs at one of the sail’s ropes for support as the tentacles finally retract. With a pained wail, they curl up lifelessly and fall noisily below the troubled waters.

There’s a collective cheer from everyone aboard, the captain clapping the pirate with a scarf firmly on the back, the albino pirate being pulled into a crushing hug by a few of the more parental pirates on the ship. The pirate in green turns towards Jennifer, face bearing an ecstatic grin, until he takes in the sight of her and blanches. Her blouse, white as it is, is practically transparent, soaked through and clinging to her form.

He pulls off his coat as he dashes down the stairs from the upper deck, immediately wrapping it around Jennifer as soon as he’s within reach of her.

“Wh-“

Her celebrating promptly halts as she feels the sopping woollen garment weigh down on her shoulders. Green keeps his hands planted there, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

“Jennifer, go below decks now.”

He winces as soon as he hears how it comes out and is rendered totally unsurprised by the angry sigh he receives in response.

“Listen here, if you think that just because we’ve won some poxy-“

“No, no, Jennifer...everyone can...your shirt. Everyone can see through it.”

Slowly, her eyebrows raise, face turning even redder than it’s already been rendered by windburn. Her shoulders tense under his hands, yet he can’t ignore the tiny quirk at the corners of her mouth. It looks pretty. Confusing, but pretty.

“Oh...thank you.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to dictate how you should, uh, present your womanhood, or something, I just-“

“No, no, that’s fine.”

She seems to be trying very hard not to burst out laughing. He allows her to turn towards the hatch that leads below the deck, and he doesn’t respond beyond turning crimson whenever her laughter echoes from up the ladder.

———

Her lips are painted cherry red, and that’s all he can see apart from her deep green eyes. The rest of her face is obscured by a mask that’s been painted and intricately cut to resemble the shape of a sea monster. He keeps forgetting the aim of their mission as his gaze travels to the line of her jaw, to the small teardrop pearl sitting against the hollow of her throat, to the emerald green dress that sways and twirls with every elegant movement she makes.

“I hate these types of thing. I can’t wait for them to be over.”

The pirate in green nods. He can’t think of a clever response to comfort her, and his face is starting to itch behind his own mask. It’s a woodland sprite, he thinks. He wasn’t really paying attention.

“We just have to wait for the drugs to take hold. Once the admiral’s asleep, we take the key and we make a run for the tower. Simple!”

All of a sudden, his mind goes blank. The heel of her palm presses into the small of his back, straightening his posture out dramatically. She presses her chest close to his, so close that he could rest his chin on her head if he really tried to. 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a dance. We have to dance. It’s part of the bloody social niceties.”

He makes no further protests, thankful that she keeps the dancing incredibly simple, an easy stepping pattern to the rhythm of the music that he can easily follow along with and even pretend to lead, if he’s careful. He wonders if he’s feeling the slight increase in the speed of her breathing or if it’s merely a side effect of trying to once again get used to the feel of a corset constricting her. He feels sorry for her. He could only imagine how sore it must be to have pieces of whale bone press all of her girly bits in. 

Feeling rather bold after observing a handful of other couples around the ballroom, he places his hand into the small of her back just as she has placed hers in his, and spins her, just once. Her lips part the moment it’s over. Her soft, sweet lips, painted that wonderfully enticing shade-

“Admiral’s asleep.”

She finally mutters. She separates herself from him and gestures for him to follow along behind her. He has no reason to protest, doing as he’s told, unsure of wether or not any of that meant anything in this strange ballroom turned fever dream where everything was something more than it seemed to be and all things being compared to flowers were confusing metaphors for kissing.

———

“Have you seen those two?”

“What?”

The pirate in green can’t for the life of him work out what Jennifer’s gesturing to. She’s wearing an expectant grin, leant back on next to him on one of the many piles of ropes below decks.

“The two in front of us, you fool. Look at them.”

He looks at the two pirates in front of them, so far away that he can’t even hear what they’re saying. She leans in closer to whisper to him.

“There’s a weird sort of tension there, right?”

He can tell his face contorts into a confused squint before he can stop it. She chuckles, placing a soft hand on his chest and sending his pulse rabbiting. He swallows heavily.

“What do you mean?”

He tries to keep his voice natural, face warm, mouth dry.

“Just watch them, look at them. Look at how they act.”

Sure enough, whenever he focuses on them, he can see certain little tell tale signs of a budding relationship. It gets much easier to concentrate whenever she finally stops touching his chest, even though he mourns the loss of the warm touch. One of the pirates, the one the pirate in green can’t remember the name of-maybe Andy?-brushes a strand of the boatswain’s hair away from his face, fingers lingering against the skin for a moment or two longer than needs be before he turns away, face visibly red, even from where the pirate in green’s sitting.

“It’s unbelievable, right?”

His attentions promptly turn back to Jennifer. She’s now rolled onto her side so that her front’s facing him, one hand in the pocket of her britches, the other supporting her head as she lounges.

“What is?”

“How oblivious they are! I mean, I could expect it from the captain, but I didn’t know anyone else could be so totally naive when it comes to affections. Did you?”

He just barely stops himself from saying something very stupid.

“Oh, no...”

“Honestly, you would think someone would be able to tell whenever the person standing right next to them was in love with them, wouldn’t you?”

“You would be surprised, Jennifer.”

She twists onto her back again, head lolling backwards with a sigh and another breathy chuckle. 

“There’s nothing worse than an unrequited love.”

He clenches his jaw and ignores the heavy feeling that sets into his chest and threatens to pull his heart into his boots.

“No, there is not.”

———

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has sort of become like a trashy vent fic for me. It’s very self indulgent and full of all sorts of awkward Victorian cliches, but if even one person reads it and finds it sort of sweet? That’s all for the better.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapped lips brush at her pulse point, bearing a sweet little smile she can feel next to her skin. She can’t stop herself from grinning either, letting the hands at her side travel down to her hips until they both fall back against something too soft to be anything from the ship. 

“Green...”

That familiar laugh sounds out against her collarbone before soft kisses begin to collect there. Her hands twirl in his hair, tugging him back up to reconnect their lips, humming into his mouth.

Jennifer’s eyes open wide as she awakens, gazing up into the dark. She can see a small light flicker in the corner of the room. Whenever she turns towards it, she finds the pirate in green staring at her. Well, squinting, she supposes, not quite able to focus in both the dim light and with the absence of his glasses.

“Jennifer? Are you alright?”

She can’t help but wince at the sheer volume of his voice. She’s certain that he’s woken up at least three other people with just one sentence. That is, the ones she hasn’t just woken up...

From the cabin above, the pirate with a scarf’s, there’s an annoyed grumble.

“It’s gone past three!”

The pirate in green scowls and throws a rolled up copy of ‘Magnet’ at the ceiling.

“Well, go back to bed, then!”

———

“Ah, shit, shit...”

Jennifer clambers onto her knees next to the pirate in green. His teeth are clenched and his head is tossed back on the deck of the Barbary Hen, taking shaky, deep breaths. She pries his hands away from where they’re clasped over his chest and finds a blood stain on his shirt, just at his pectoral. 

“Don’t be a baby.”

She tuts, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and breathing a mental sigh of relief whenever she finds the wound to be fairly small. She feels slightly bad about her harsh tone, but she can’t afford to let him panic, or any of the rest of the crew, because that alone is a problem in itself. 

Bellamy’s lads have all stopped, as have the crew she’s part of. It seems that nobody expected anyone to actually be injured, and Jennifer doesn’t know wether it’s infuriating or endearing. 

“We are going to go back to the ship and clean out that wound. Afterwards, we’ll bandage it. Alright?”

The pirate in green nods, and, much to her surprise, leans into the hand she hadn’t even realised she’d pressed to his cheek. She draws it away quickly, instead opting to help him clamber to his feet again, not inconsiderable weight pressing into her side. Both her own crew and Bellamy’s step aside to allow her past, never once raising objection.

———

They’re traipsing up the streets of Barcelona. The heat is sweltering, and she sorely regrets not wearing a dress with lighter skirts as she desperately tries to fan herself with a pamphlet about whatever tour they’ve just managed to escape from. Soap making or something like that.

“Jennifer...Jennifer, wait!”

She can’t help but sigh a little tetchily as the albino pirate jogs up beside her. She misses the pirate in green’s company. As annoying as his constant questioning could sometimes get whenever they were out and about, he was at least a good laugh.

“What is it?”

The younger pirate tries to simultaneously whisper in her ear and round a corner. It goes about as well as could be expected. 

“I have a secret to tell you.”

She hums questioningly. If this secret is anything like the numerous others he’s spilled to her before, it will probably be something about chalk or dinosaurs or the captain. He grins at her, all teeth, seeming to want to get horribly sunburnt as he leads her off from the rest of the group and into the brightest, hottest part of the courtyard they’re supposed to be investigating.

“You wanna hear it!”

“If you want to tell me, yes.”

He pulls her down with a steady hand on her arm, cupping his hand against her ear and lowering his voice.

“The pirate in green like-likes you.”

The afternoon sun suddenly feels about ten times hotter than it did before. Jennifer twists away, swatting him back both playfully and genuinely, face as red as roses.

“Don’t be daft!”

“It’s true! Don’t tell him I told you, though, because I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I had to tell you because I had to tell someone and if I said to anyone else they might’ve said to you!”

She can barely make out what he’s rambling on about, but the weight of the information suddenly feels like a tonne on her shoulders. She leans against the wall of the building they’re standing next to, the cool stone acting as a marvellous calming mechanism against her bare back.

“Are you sure he was being serious?”

The albino pirate nods definitely.

“I saw him writing about it in his little book thingy. I asked him, and he said I couldn’t tell anyone, but I knew he would never say to you because he’s too scared!”

Her lips form a soft, soundless ‘oh’ shape. 

“So, I thought you should know. It’s driving us all crazy. Plus, it would be very, very helpful if you two could kiss, because I’ve bet all my pocket money on it with the pirate with asthma and I really want to get one of those little sea shell boxes. Can you smell bread?”

And, suddenly distracted by something Jennifer can’t be bothered with at the moment, he wanders off to rejoin the rest of the pirates, leaving her slumped against a stone wall with her mind incomprehensibly frazzled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> albino’s age is never really specified so I tend to place him as a young kid to early teen.


	5. Chapter 5

“Green?”

The pirate in green can hear her coming down the stairs before he can actually see her. He’s been banished to a far corner below decks, trying and failing to fix the holes in some fishnets by candlelight. His eyes are starting to sting, his hands are covered in pinpricks, and he’s sore all over.

“Yeah?”

He looks up to find Jennifer holding a much brighter lantern, placing it on the floor before sitting, crossing her legs below herself.

“The pirate with a scarf says I’m to hit you.”

He blinks up at her for a moment before obliging ducking his head forwards, forehead pressed to his knees. 

“Go ahead.”

Instead of the expected sting across the back of his neck, all he feels is the coarse netting being pulled from his grip, along with the mounted needle. He hazards a look up, only to find her picking out the frayed squares of rope, tugging them back under into a neat lattice formation.

“I’m not going to, am I?”

“Then why’d you tell me?”

She waves the mounted needle at him accusatorially. 

“Because we need to get our stories straight. He’s already mad as it is, we don’t need him pinning us two down as well.”

The pirate in green takes the opportunity to stretch out his fingers. He cracks his knuckles in a useless attempt to relieve some of the cramp in his hands, ignoring the wince he earns whenever the bones make a satisfying ‘pop’ noise.

“Why is he so tetchy anyways?”

Jennifer rolls her eyes tiredly. Her hands keep moving in precise patterns, giving the strings of the net precise little tugs and trimming off any excess rope in the process.

“I think it’s because we switched to ersatz coffee. That and he’s on about two hours of sleep.”

As if on cue, the albino pirate opens up the hatch and pads down the rickety stairs, throwing himself between the other two pirates with a huff. The pirate in green can’t help but notice the way Jennifer looks at him, almost guilty, before she pushes her spectacles up again, suddenly more interested in her work than anything else in the world.

“You get told off too?”

“He caught me reading Magnet and said I had to go fix nets.”

He nudges his head against Jennifer’s side, almost like a small bird, plucking absentmindedly at the fishing net in her lap. The pirate in green catches himself feeling quite jealous about it and tries his best not to strop.

“Let’s just leave him for the captain to sort out. You can just help us out down here, right?”

“Right!”

The albino pirate chirps brightly. Jennifer makes no comment whenever he begins braiding together the spare bits of rope from the net, and the pirate in green decides that anything she’s fine with he is as well.

———

His previous ideas about Jennifer have been proven very, very wrong.

While it’s true that she’s funny and brave and incredibly nice-all of that he got spot on-he’s made a very important discovery. Despite her rather incredible elegance exhibited in the more traditional forms of dance, Jennifer, for love nor money, can’t seem to stay in rhythm. 

Every single part of her is highlighted by the lights in the pub. Her stripy socks, her slightly askew spectacles, the fact that somehow, in the throes of her dancing, she has managed to bend one of her earrings out of shape. The pirate in green is struck by the sheer silliness of it. Her face is blotchy red from the exertion, lip bitten in concentration. She reaches up to brush some stray strands of her hair from her eyes, and he’s caught staring. Instead of turning away or worse, coming over to ask what he was so interested in, she only waves.

He waves back before he can stop himself, dopey smile playing on his lips without his permission. She goes back to dancing. Wiggling might be a better term, he thinks, going off the bizarre and erratic shimmying of her hips, the way she twirls her wrists a beat behind the music. He’s so wrapped up in the sight of her that he doesn’t quite notice the captain grinning at him, along with a large majority of the crew.

What he does notice, though, is whenever she finally stops moving like she’s having a fit and saunters back over to his table. She grins, pillowing her cheek against her arms as she rests her head on the table. 

———

“Is this a good book?”

His legs feel like jelly as he walks towards her. She’s pinning her hair up, revealing the long column of her neck. He entirely forgets the reason why he’s there for a moment as he admires the red-brown curls, only coming back to his senses whenever he catches her making faces at him in the mirror. 

“What one is it, then?”

“Uh...Sense and Sensibility.”

She combs back a few errant strands, trapping them with a clip he distinctly recognises as one from their adventure with Egyptian tombs.

“Where on earth did you find that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

“In a skip.”

“Why were you in-never mind. Are you going to read it, then?”

He shrugs again, rubbing his thumb over and over the corner of the book. It’s very small, and the font is tiny. He’s checked. He keeps watching the way she moves, fascinated as he watches her pin back her hair and somehow shape it into something manageable and neat.

“If you like painstaking social niceties and having to make notes to keep up with what you’re reading, I’d absolutely recommend it.”

The thing is, despite having spent so much time with her, he can still never quite tell whenever she’s being sarcastic. Still, he’s never once found a bad book in a skip, and even if it is boring or contrived, he desperately needs to find something for the evenings to distract his mind from wandering down roads that always lead to him feeling miserable.

“I will, then. Thank you.”

She smiles at him through her reflection in the mirror. He tries to mirror her expression, only to feel his stomach churn as he realises just what he looks like around her. Nervous, flushed, almost queasy, and unbelievably lovestruck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small disclaimer: The first issue of Magnet magazine was published in the early 1900s, but considering everything this series stretches in terms of historical accuracy, I think this one checks out.


	6. Chapter 6

The pirate in green stumbles in through the window like a newborn lamb after Jennifer. His weight makes a terrible creaking noise on the floorboards that is thankfully muffled by the thick rug that covers most of the floor. She hushes him, gazing across the large, kitschy, sunlit bedroom.

“If you were an admiral’s daughter, where would you hide your most valuable pearls?”

The pirate in green shrugs at her, distracted by the copious issues of ‘Young, brooding and doomed’ that litter the floor below the bed.

“Maybe...dresser drawers?”

He finally chirps. She nods in response and begins to rummage through the mahogany dresser as quietly as she can. The pirate in green kneels down in the corner and begins to feel for loose boards. As she’s performing the rather small scale plundering, she catches sight of a few particular items that take her fancy. New stockings, woollen bed socks, all manner of fine undergarments and blouses. She only stops herself for a moment before remembering one of the many perks of piracy, and begins to shove them hastily into her bag.

“What are you doing?”

Comes the hiss from behind her. She crouches to reach the next drawer, grinning in satisfaction. There’s a panel at the bottom where the wood is slightly smoother than the rest there. More worn. Most likely a secret compartment. 

“Getting new clothes.”

“You can’t do that!”

The wood slides upwards just as she suspected. Set into a small lip just below the base of the drawer is a box, filled to its albeit shallow brim with pearls of every shape, size and colour possible. Jennifer scoops them up and pours them into the satchel just as hastily as she did with the clothes.

“We can’t steal these pearls, either, legally, can we?”

“Yes, but that’s different! Pirates do not steal underpants, Jennifer!”

“The naughty ones do.”

She instantly knows she’s made a mistake. The room goes deathly silent, as it should be for a robbery, she knows, but it feels somehow wrong. Their outfit is known for its poor execution and subsequent lucking out. They do not do this sort of thing as it’s meant to be done. It’s a sure sign she’s totally wrecked the mood.

“We should leave.”

The pirate in green mutters, or something along those lines, she can’t quite hear. Whatever he said is definitely a better option to simply standing in the middle of the luxurious bedroom of an empty house, talking to her possible pash about neglige. They exit the way they came in, however, not without slashing open a good few throw pillows for good measure and, Jennifer notices, tearing up almost every copy of ‘Young, brooding and doomed’.

———

“So, does anybody have any new relationships to tell us about, at all? Any new developments?”

The captain is being painfully obvious from the way he’s staring at both her and the pirate in green, and really, Jennifer finds it quite sweet, in a very annoying way. She picks at her food and thanks every lucky star whenever the albino pirate speaks up.

“My friend Danny and I went down to the beach and did some crabbing!”

“Your imaginary friend Danny and you?”

“Yeah!”

The entire crew makes a sympathetic face as one, the albino pirate swinging his legs happily below the table, oblivious. Jennifer makes a mental note to help the poor mite meet some other boatswains the next time they get shore leave. All the tension in her stomach knots together again.

“How about you, Jenny? Any new corset rippers this week?”

The sigh that leaves her body is nothing short of exhausted. The members of the crew are either staring directly at her or chewing with their mouths open, and neither is particularly pleasant. The pirate in green shifts very noticeably beside her, and she only just notices how he arranges food on his plate. It’s by colour, like a small child might do. It makes her feel strangely warm, such a ridiculous, annoying, adorable habit in a supposedly bloodthirsty pirate, a terror of the high seas-

“Jen?”

“Oh, uh, I, no. That is, there’s no new, what was it? Corset rippers? Yes, no, none of those.”

She laughs nervously and takes a bite from off her fork. She can’t tell if it’s salty or sweet, it all tastes bitter. The silence falls like a fog, the tension thick enough to slice with a cutlass. The pirate with a scarf clears his throat, makes a motion that looks an awful lot like kicking the captain underneath the table. He does make a pained wince before continuing on.

“Yes, well, actually, on that matter, I’ve been reading the most fascinating article about fly fishing.”

———

She doesn’t want his jacket and she doesn’t need it, either. She didn’t even want it whenever he gave it to her, she could have covered herself up just fine. It’s just that she’s forgotten to return it. He’s forgotten to ask for it back. He’s being chivalrous. She’s respecting his wishes. Some combination of those things.

He can see her wearing it at night, their hammocks are opposite each other on cold nights, when everyone’s practically forced into the same cozy space below decks. It acts like a bed jacket to keep out the chill, thick wool surprisingly soft against her bare shoulders. The fabric smells like rum, spice and cherry cake, the scents she’s now come to associate with the pirate in green. It’s nice, really, like the shadow of an embrace that she isn’t quite willing to admit she wants yet. 

But then she sees him with sunburn, or with small scratches on his arms, or nettle welts or goosebumps or some other nasty little side effect of being left without a jacket to protect him, and she feels horribly guilty.

Still reluctant to give back the coat, she decides to put some of her saved up loot to good use.

They dock at blood island as they usually do around this time of the month-she wants so badly to make a joke, but she knows it would go over most of their heads-, leaving her to her own devices as she wanders the narrow streets in search of the small market square she saw once before. There, she locates the stall she needs and gathers her materials.

It takes a short while of being curled up below decks, but her prior life of petite point and cross-stitch and endless tedium have given her more than enough practice to complete the project in just under two days without once having to fake the vapours to skip a chore.

She wraps the garment in old copies of ‘Ahoy!’ with string and leaves it in the pirate in green’s hammock for him to hopefully discover before any of the nosier pirates do. There’s a small note in the pocket to tell him who it’s from. 

Seeing him stride into the galley with the coat on no less than an hour later makes Jennifer’s chest fill with ridiculously giddy pride. The gold banding along the cuffs earn several jealous glares, she can tell he revels in it from the way he strides, and deep down she knows that this is a much better coat than his old one ever was.

Besides, that’s her coat now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer: I don’t like him that much  
> Jennifer: *Just makes him a whole coat*


	7. Chapter 7

He’s trying to think about any other type of girl but her.

The pirate in green knows that even by the ridiculous standards London holds for women’s appearances, Jennifer’s gorgeous. Her personality, her voice, her face, her figure. Red-brow hair, skin soft and smooth, yet still lightly tanned from the heat of the Caribbean sun, lips seashell pink, spectacular green eyes framed by oval, golden spectacles. 

There are copious wenches, lady pirates and barmaids he knows of. Given their travels, there’s no small amount of girls he could be with, girls of all appearances and personalities. Girls like Cutlass Liz, who he knows he would never have any real chance with, but any hypothetical fantasy is better than mooning over Jennifer.

But he wants Jennifer.

He screws his face up, crossing his arms over his head. This is borderline torturous. Desperately, he makes attempts to drag his mind away again. Some girls he’s seen on Blood island show off their bare midriffs, or strap knives to their garters in a way that’s deliberately seductive. He’s had one of the barmaids wink at him, and he’s almost entirely certain that she didn’t mean it for anyone else. He’s seen girls in doorways kiss and bite and sigh. Then again, the men they’re doing all that with usually earn themselves a swift knock on their heads and a rifle through their coin pouch for their trouble.

And that immediately sends him back around to Jennifer again. Even her name is starting to etch itself deep into his brain. Some darker part of his mind wanders back to the artful descriptions given at the castle Ruthven, teases him with the possibility of wether they’re true or not, and moreover, wether he’ll ever find out for himself. How was it Byron had put it again?

He knows exactly how this always goes, knows exactly the type of heat those images swirl in the pit of his stomach, so he rolls over onto his side and curls his fists into the hammock. He’s in no mood tonight.

———

The Working Girl is lovely ship. It’s large, warm and has twelve wonderful canons. Even the name is funny, the pirate in green thinks, and he does like funny boat names.

That doesn’t mean that it’s a fun boat to be held prisoner on.

He and Jennifer are lashed to the same mast, rough rope cutting into his middle every time he breathes. The crew of this ship are needlessly cruel, and as well as that, incredibly loud. Their voices echo up from below decks, along with a mixture of muffled yelps and shouts from the captain and the pirate with a scarf. The rest of the crew remains tied up near them.

“Hey, you alright?”

Jennifer suddenly asks. Her voice is soft and calm and low. It immediately helps to slow is racing heartbeat. They’ve been in their fair share of trouble, but they’ve never been held hostage this long, and never been this long without both the captain and his first mate. He doesn’t know how she’s managed to keep a level head this whole time.

“I’m a little nervous, to be honest. We’re usually wrapped up in time for tea.”

“At least we’re out of the rut, hm? C’mere.”

With the little wriggle room the tight rope provides, the pirate in green has some difficulty understanding what she means. That is until she shuffles the small distance she’s able to, reaches out, and squeezes his hand. 

“It’ll all work out. These dickheads are sloppy. They’ll get drunk or high or some such nonsense, and the captain’ll come up here and untie us, and we’ll loot the fools. It’s just a matter of waiting it out.”

The pirate in green nods, tries not to flinch whenever Jennifer tilts her head and rests it on his tense shoulder. Small, soft fingers brush over his calloused ones, squeezing back at him obligingly, easing his troubled mind.

———

Coming from somewhere up above, there’s the sound of sobbing. It’s being carried by the breeze; so soft and quiet it can barely be heard. Some of the younger pirates have retreated to the cabins for fear of a ghost roaming the high seas. The pirate in green likes to think he knows better than that. In fact, he has quite a good idea of where the noise is emanating from. 

“I thought I’d find you up here.”

Climbing up to the crow’s nest never was his cup of tea. It always left him with a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t just leave her up here. Jennifer is sitting on the round wooden base, pinstriped legs dangling in between the space between one of the poles connecting the base to the handrail. The pirate in green scuffles to join her until he’s in a sitting position that doesn’t make his heart sit uneasily in his throat. The stars are drinking from the surface of the water, full moon shining brightly in the dark blue velvet that is the sky. Bright enough that the tear tracks on Jennifer’s face glow like trails of molten silver-

“Hey, what’s the matter, lo-Jen? What’s up?”

Without thinking, he cups her face in his palm, turning her gently towards him. She doesn’t resist, yet he’s trying to give her room to should she want. Those gorgeous emerald eyes dart to the side, unwilling to look at him straight on as tears continue to spill.

“I come up here sometimes. It’s quiet. I like it.”

Her voice is watery, cracking slightly at the end. It’s nothing like her. His heart almost breaks at the sight, and again, with very little thought, he pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Why are you crying?”

“You shall think me ridiculous.”

He strokes her back slowly, shaking his head against where his cheek is resting, on the crown of her head. He can tell that this is getting far too familiar, far too close l, and yet he can’t bring himself to stop it. She needs someone right now. He may as well be that person.

“It’s...sometimes, I get homesick. I miss my sister.”

Oh. He knows all about Beatrice.

“Oh, Jennifer, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not some weak, stupid girl, if that’s what you think now. This is the first time I’ve done this.”

He can’t help but smile, small laugh bubbling up from deep within his chest. She tenses against him.

“No, oh, you mustn’t worry about that. I cry all the time, Jennifer. I cry all the time. At least a few times a month.” 

The small tremors that shudder through her are beginning to subside. Wether it’s because she’s simply starting to feel better or he’s actually helping, he can’t be sure, but he decides to keep going on the off chance. 

“I cry about books, injuries, upset stomachs, bad adventures, sad songs...really, think of something, I’ve probably had a little weep at one time or another.”

With a small push against his chest, he unwinds his arms from around her. She’s still sniffling, wiping at her cheeks with the heels of her palms. 

“I love piracy, but...sometimes, I just want to go home.”

“All of us get homesick sometimes. It’s sort of a given with this type of business. The question is, do you miss it all enough to want to quit this?”

She suddenly pulls an appalled face, as if offended by the mere idea.

“No, never.”

The pirate in green gives her a warm smile, trying his very best to convey genuine friendship and trying just as hard to convert nothing beyond that. It is hard, though, with the way she looks, bathed in moonlight, quiet and still rather upset.

“You know, whenever I’m feeling homesick, I usually try and think about some other nice thing you can get out here at sea. That helps.”

She cocks an eyebrow, taking in deep, calming gulps of sea air as the blotchy redness in her face begins to fade away.

“Like what?”

“Well, Uhm, hmm...seagulls can be quite good fun, if you’re in the mood for them! There’s treasure, grog, britches with laces, unlikely famous characters dotted about in the most odd places, a variety of sea monsters, your bust, marble cake with salt in it is a pleasant surprise-“

He stops himself dead whenever his rambling finally catches up with his brain. Jennifer sits stiffly next to him, lips pursed and shoulders tense. He wants to bite into his own arm and scream. 

Until she starts to laugh.

It’s a sweet, rich, loud laugh. So loud that he’s certain it can be heard by any ships in the surrounding area, and certainly the crew down below. Her eyes screw shut behind her spectacles, head tossed back, clutching at her stomach like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life. Her legs kick weakly over the side of the crow’s nest, bursting into a round of giggles that slowly but surely fizzle out into breathless, wheezy gasps.

“Oh, Lord...”

Her chest heaves as she recovers, grin still plastered onto her face. The pirate in green knows that he’s staring, most likely blushing, going by how simply hot he feels all over, but he can’t bring himself to look away. She turns to him, leaning back on the flats of her palms, calmer and quieter. 

“Thank you. That’s...that’s very nice of you.”

There’s still the slightest hint of giddy laughter in her voice, but it’s certainly much less than it was moments ago. Her hand wanders gently back to his shoulder as she, overwhelmingly tenderly, smiles at him. 

“You know, you’re really lovely for a pirate.”

The pirate in green beams. He’s certain that, by now, he’s as red as the stripes on a lighthouse, but he doesn’t really mind all that much. Not whenever the light from the moon shines upon the crow’s nest and sparks an hour’s worth of conversation between the two of them.


	8. Chapter 8

In the dark silence of the lower decks, nothing is audible otherwise than the low creaking noises of the wood and the occasional snore. Jennifer, however, can hear her heart pounding in her ears, throat dry, clutching the bedsheets. She has no idea wether this is good or not, but spending so much time with the Captain has started to impede her logical thinking skills. At least, that’s the excuse she has prepared for herself in case this all goes horribly, terribly wrong. 

“Green,”

She starts, hoping desperately she’ll receive an answer.

“Are you awake?”

There’s the sound of rustling on her right side, across the length of the cabin, and then a definite turn. 

“Yeah?”

The pirate in green’s voice is still husky with tiredness, hair most likely mussed up into a brilliant mess of dark curls, brown eyes squinting adorably into the darkness, ridiculous dinosaur patterned pyjamas with the sleeves rolled up. The mere thought of it makes her stomach feel as though it’s full of butterflies, and she decides that if she doesn’t do this now, she’ll never work up the courage again.

“Can I tell you something?”

“It’s ‘may I’, actually.”

He replies, audibly smug.

“Don’t be such a smartarse. This is important.”

More rustling, then silence.

“Go on then.”

Jennifer rolls so that she’s facing away from him. Even in the pitch black, she still worries he’s looking at her, that he can somehow make out her expressions. Her fingers curl in the apple green blankets, face half buried into her pillow. She’s always been the eloquent one in situations like this, she’s never been the one to confess feelings for someone first, and it’s proving to be a bloody hassle.

“I...I think I like you.”

“Oh.”

Even though it’s well past midnight, somewhere up above, a seagull gives a lone squawk. The former Victorian lady winces as the quiet becomes heavier and heavier until she worries it will crush her like a tonne weight, until-

“Really?”

“Yes, really!”

Another squawk.

“Jennifer?”

“...Yes?”

“Can I tell you somethin’?”

“Of course you may.”

“I definitely like you.”

Hearing the words from him rather than from one of the other gossipy crew members makes her heart positively sing. Before she can say anything else, something near the end of the room creaks. There’s a wheezy cough followed by the tinny, damp rattle of an inhaler.

“Thanks a load, you pair, now I owe the milk bottle a fiver.”

And, with a sleepy, grumpy, breathless sigh, the pirate with asthma flops back into his hammock. Jennifer and the pirate in green try and fail to stop their slightly flustered giggles.

———

“Jennifer?”

The familiar voice of the pirate in green startles her from her daydream, sending her stomach back into nervous ripples of excitement, polishing her cutlass despite the fact it doesn’t need it. Every new stroke of the cloth is in time with her pulse, a quick, hasty motion that doesn’t distract her from her nerves as much as she’d like it to.

“Hi-hello.”

She stammers. The pirate in green is holding something behind his back, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he runs his tongue along his lower lip. 

“Could, hi, sorry, could we talk about what happened last night?”

Judging by the way the noises of the other pirates working falters before continuing slightly more quietly, that’s piqued their interest. Jennifer nods her head, yet flinches back, alarmed, whenever a bundle of something green and red and white is shoved rather suddenly into her face. 

“Are these...carnations?”

She adjusts her spectacles as the bouquet is drawn sheepishly away, the pirate in green catching his tongue between his teeth a little awkwardly.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t know if that would be appropriate. I mean, I think girls like flowers, but I don’t know if it’s offensive or derogatory or anything, or maybe just a little too soon, but, uh, yeah.”

Slowly, she reaches out and takes the proffered bunch of flowers, smiling as the clear cellophane wrapped around them crinkles under the touch.

“Where did you get these?”

“Uh, do you remember that message in a bottle that someone on board got, and the captain and the pirate with a scarf told us all not to open it, and it turned out it had a packet of seeds in it, and the captain planted some in those little yoghurt pots and then put them in a window box, and we all took turns watering it and I tried to learn about flower language?”

“Yes?”

“These are that. Those. Them.”

He’s rambling nervously, wringing the hem of his shirt like a wet rag, face wearing a smile so awkward it almost looks pained. Jennifer looks back down at the bouquet, tracing one soft white petal with her fingertip.

“The white ones are meant to be purity, I think. Red ones are admiration and affection. Pink ones are for a mother’s love, so I didn’t think it wise to put those in. That was stupid. I don’t know why I said that. Sorry.”

Jennifer stands, letting the carnations fall down by her side, her free hand coming to rest on the other pirate’s shoulder as she stares into his eyes.

“Green, follow me.”

She instructs, and he obeys, blindly trailing after her as she creeps away from the milling band of pirates. She checks to see if they’re being watched before ducking down and dragging him with her beneath one of the sets of stairs that lead to the deck above the captain’s cabin.

“What’s wrong?”

Jennifer takes a deep breath in much the same manner as the previous night. However, before she can do or say anything more, a calloused hand slinks its way up to cup her jaw.

“Jennifer?”

She wonders, privately, if hearing her name in that nervy, questioning tone of voice, dripping with a heavy Irish accent, will ever get tiring. She can’t imagine it will.

“I really want to kiss you.”

Her stomach flutters against her will, hoping desperately that her bright red blush isn’t quite as visible underneath the shadows the boards of the staircase cast in the sun.

“Well...perhaps you should. If you want to.”

“Right. Cosmic.”

And, with that, Jennifer feels shaky palms trail down to rest at her hips, hot breath fanning against her cheek. The pirate in green bends down just as she leans up, tilting her head slightly to the side, and, suddenly, tentatively, they’re kissing. 

Just as Jennifer imagined, more times than she’d ever care to admit, the pirate in green’s lips are warm against her own, chapped yet not rough. Her eyes flutter shut just as his do, both oblivious to the small gathering of crewmen they’ve managed to attract, even within their private spot. The kiss deepens, sweet and passionate and only a little bit nerve wracking, until the pirate in green grins and pulls away, lightheaded laughter bubbling up from deep within his chest.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just...really excited!”

Once again, before Jennifer can make any further move, she’s interrupted by a small chorus of ‘Whoooo!’ From their audience.

———

She can only hope that sharing a cabin won’t be awkward now.

Any chance of the other crew members leering at them seems to have been dismissed by a scowl from the pirate in green, and she’s finally allowing herself to accept that she actually finds that more than a little attractive. Even that, though, doesn’t quite dissipate her excited nervousness as she sits on her own with him, wrapped up in her pyjamas and brushing through her hair.

“Where are the others?”

She asks, bristles of the brush smoothing down her curls with mindless strokes, much the same as the cutlass.

“I asked them if we could spend a little time alone.”

“You...what?”

Despite herself, she blushes, something she thought she was done with for today. 

“There’s something I want to do with you, Jen. Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

“Oh...”

He sits up from his hammock, walking up behind her, looking into her eyes through the reflection in the small, smudged mirror hanging on the far wall of the cabin.

“Jennifer...”

He whispers, bending down to lean his head on her shoulder, hands clasped behind his back, lips close enough to brush her ear. She shivers at the closeness.

“Can I brush your hair?”

With a swift turn, she thumps her hairbrush against his chest, flushed face scrunched into a poorly suppressed grin.

“You’re terrible!”

“What? I want to!”

Her feigned scowl does nothing to hide her amusement. With a huff, she hands him the brush, sinking to a cross legged position on the floor and waiting for him to follow along behind.

“Very well. I shall grant you the privilege.”

Just as he begins combing through her hair, she turns to face him again, resting her chin in her hands.

“Oh, and actually? It’s ‘May I brush your hair?’.”


End file.
